2010.

by geeta on December 13, 2010

December is generally the time of year when critics put out their Top 100 lists, their Best Albums of 2010 lists, their top singles of the year. I have some ideas on the subject, but I haven’t worked out my own painstakingly ordered list yet. Partly it’s because I’ve been caught up in the seismic shakeups in journalism, politics, technology, and everything that’s happening in the world at large (more on this later). But it’s also because I’ve never much cared for making ranked lists; I’ve voted in Pazz and Jop and various other critics’ polls for almost ten years now, but I never have much fun doing it, to be honest. I’ve argued in the past that the practice of list-making — of ranking items into strict hierarchies, and arguing about said hierarchies — seemed to me to be a strangely male phenomenon. I know plenty about labels, genres, years; I have an absurd knowledge of arcane trivia, as any good critic should. But I just don’t view music in a linear way; my view is more oceanic, omnidirectional. In my head, Cluster’s 1974 album Zuckerzeit, a Ron Hardy DJ mix from 1986, and a mixtape a friend made me were all essential parts of my 2010, too.

There are albums I’ve liked very much that were released this year. When I was in LA I bought Ariel Pink’s Before Today on vinyl, and it reminds me of my time there, much of which was spent in a car. I’ve listened to the album at a variety of different speeds — 33 rpm, 45 rpm, pitched down to a sludgy -8, pitched up to a peppy +4 — and I’ve been fascinated by it every single time. (I like it backwards, too.) The revelatory Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat reissue on Bombay Connection, which I’ve written about extensively, is most definitely in my Top 10. So is LCD Soundsystem’s This is Happening. Matthew Herbert’s One One (and One Club) impressed me, both as concepts and as music. I got caught up in Pantha du Prince’s Black Noise, and all its exquisite melancholia. And Actress’ Splazsh, which conjured up strange waves of nostalgia in me. Emeralds, who I had the good fortune to see at Unsound in Poland, blew me away. As did Keith Fullerton Whitman, who I am glad to see is pursuing a relentless schedule of releases in a variety of formats. Moon Wiring Club. The soft-focus dreaminess of Ireland’s Solar Bears, a lovely surprise in a tough year. Forest Swords. Rene Hell. Space Dimension Controller. Ewan Pearson’s We Are Proud of Our Choices. James Blake. Recently, I’ve been devouring Shackleton’s new Fabric mix (can that man do no wrong?) and the Africa: 50 Years of Music box set, a mammoth 18-CD compilation of African pop which was released a few months ago to little fanfare. (My friend Michaelangelo wrote a great piece about it, here.) Some albums which received a lot of hype this year in electronic circles, like Shed’s The Traveller and Oneohtrix Point Never’s Returnal, didn’t stick with me for very long. (As for the latter — who I wrote about for Frieze here — I think Rifts, a fantastic compilation of earlier work released in 2009 on No Fun, blows Returnal out of the water.) I’m coming around to the Kanye record, but I’m still trying to peel back the thirty thousand layers of bombast. To be sure, there are many other albums I’m forgetting. But here’s one album, released this year, that I haven’t forgotten since I first heard it.

That album is Peter Gordon and the Love of Life Orchestra, a compilation of tracks made in downtown New York City in the late 1970s that was reissued this year on DFA. It is my vote for reissue of the year, and possibly album of the year. I am surprised that this album didn’t get more press. I wrote a piece about it for NPR a few months ago, but I wasn’t very happy with how it turned out (it was edited while I was on the road in Europe, and there wasn’t enough time for discussion about the edits and additions that were made.) I’ve listened to the album at least a hundred times now. Every time I hear new resonances; I hear a new instrument, a new musician, a new edit — something that surprises me. I loved the stories behind it, the intriguing tangle of artists and musicians who were involved in it. Here was a piece of downtown New York in the late 1970s that had somehow escaped being reissued until now, when seemingly everything else from that world has been. I liked that there was a band (actually, just one artist, a wonderful one, by the name of Colette) named Justine and the Victorian Punks.

This song, from that album, is one of my favorites. It’s called “That Hat,” and it features Arthur Russell. I thought I knew nearly everything that Arthur Russell had released — so much of his oeuvre has been exhumed in recent years, to the point of exhaustion — but “That Hat” is one of the finest Russell songs I’ve heard. “That Hat” changes every few bars and decides to become a new song. That’s fine, because every song it morphs into is a great song. The chorus is unexpected and beautiful and doesn’t happen until something like six minutes in, and the lyrics are goofy and utterly endearing.

And here’s my favorite song from the record –”Another Heartbreak/Don’t Don’t Redux,” which cycles through so many emotions, instruments, ideas, and genres over twelve and a half minutes that I’ve lost count. “Kaleidoscopic” is definitely an overused word in music criticism, but that’s the only word I can think of to describe this. There are cellos, horns, and scratchy guitars. There is — yes — a noodly saxophone solo, which breaks down into noise. There is an interlude that sounds like pure 1960s Minimalism. In the final four minutes, it speeds up suddenly and becomes pure disco. Near the end, a small choir of women sing the words “Don’t, don’t, please don’t leave me” in a way that’s so precise that it will break your heart.

I’ll write more on music later on, but the next post or two on here will likely be about politics.

{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }

Colin December 13, 2010 at 8:56 am

I’ve just been asked by Perfect Sound Forever for my year end list – it always turns out a struggle and a bit of a disappointment. The latter because I’m constantly excited and enthralled by music, but so much of it’s not newly released this year.

Many thanks for the heads up on the Africa 50 Years of Music, one to add to my wish list that I’ve missed entirely. To anyone else tempted, the cheapest seems to be Stearns at £65 via the Amazon marketplace.

By its complete absence from your post, it looks like Eno’s Small Craft didn’t find favour with you, I’ve been really enjoying it myself.

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j. December 13, 2010 at 10:04 pm

i’ve been trying off and on since the late 90s and still seem to be terrible at making lists. but back then it was trouble with making myself think, in your words, hierarchically about what i had listened to. now, it seems to be that i listen so thoughtlessly and am so little deeply affected by most of what i listen to, that it takes an enormous organizational effort even to work up a preliminary sense of what might go on my list. (i’m not a professional critic, which i think makes it harder: no motivation to be disciplined.)

annual list-making always seems like it demands me to feel on schedule, which i absolutely cannot do.

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greyhoos December 16, 2010 at 1:59 pm

That first paragraph almost made me smile, and almost laugh aloud, out of recognition and empathy. Never took much interest in lists, especially the year-end type, and am currently spending less time online to avoid the usual December glut of hierarchical ho-hummery. And I’ve seldom been able to work up any enthusiasm for making such a list. Dunno, does that mean I’m lacking in “maleness” or something? (Heh.) I think it may have more to do with the linear/non- headspace theory you offered.

And yes to varispeed spinning. I own a number of IDM-ish discs from about a decade ago that play nicely at a number of RPMs.

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wdff December 18, 2010 at 3:17 pm

I’m a male and I’m rubbish at shopping lists.

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Daniel December 24, 2010 at 8:35 am

I’d been intrigued by that Peter Gordon release but had yet to check it out. Thank you for the recommendation – ”Another Heartbreak/Don’t Don’t Redux” is stunning.

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